


Amour Vincit Omnia (Love Conquers All)

by The_Bentley



Series: Rescue Me [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 666 Fics Fics Fics (Good Omens), Aziraphale to the Rescue (Good Omens), Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Comfort, Happy Ending, Hurt, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rescue, Torture, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 23:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20591051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: Crowley was effectively trapped; the runes preventing him from escaping.  There he was left, metal grinding against bone, his blood dripping out on the grass below; a sacrifice to gods long forgotten.Aziraphale, he sent with mind, heart and soul.Angel…





	Amour Vincit Omnia (Love Conquers All)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Любовь побеждает всё](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22752964) by [Bothersome_Arya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bothersome_Arya/pseuds/Bothersome_Arya), [WTF Good Omens 2020 (team_Good_Omens)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/team_Good_Omens/pseuds/WTF%20Good%20Omens%202020)

> 666 Fics Fics Fics Prompt: Bliss
> 
> Sorry, Crowley, but it was requested I throw some whump your way.

The punishment was going to come; it was just a matter of when.

They caught him in his flat, off-guard, busy giving his plants their usual “lecture” as he watered them. He turned, startled, to find them standing there, looking like they were going to enjoy what came next.

“Crowley,” said Hastur. “It’s time to pay for what you did.”

Panicked, Crowley looked from him to Dagon. “What I did? Literally nothing. It was all up to the boy.”

“You know exactly what you did and you’re not going to talk you way out of it,” replied Hastur. 

Crowley backed away, hoping to get into his office where he could barricade himself until he could think of Plan A. Unfortunately, that contingency had been considered; he went down with a hard crack to the head from the hilt of the knife Dagon carried, crumpling into a nearly unconscious pile on the carpet.

They each grabbed him underneath an arm then transported. A dizzying second later, Crowley found himself in the countryside at a site used to sacrifice demons in Roman times. 

“So old school, guys,” he commented, sarcasm hiding fear.

“I think this’ll do nicely,” said Dagon, dropping Crowley before ruins of a stone wall while Hastur forced him to his feet.

Futilely, Crowley struggled, as it was two demons against one. They quickly overpowered him, yanking one arm of his out to the side, holding it there as Crowley writhed, kicked and punched.

“Ready for me?” The demon just known as “Disposable” due to many discorporations, approached, toting long daggers etched with runes. 

Crowley’s eyes widened. “No!”

“Afraid so,” said Dagon with ill-concealed delight. 

Disposable handed one evil-looking dagger to Hastur, who grinned before jabbing it through a struggling Crowley’s shoulder into the wall. Crowley screamed. A second dagger broke his elbow with a sickening snap, a third painfully separated wrist bones. He concentrated on stilling his body to prevent more agony, injury and bleeding out.

Three more daggers skewered his other arm, Crowley crying out as metal sliced through skin and muscle. Hoarseness and blood loss robbed him of his ability to scream by the time they pinned his legs. His head hung loosely, chin resting on his chest. He was effectively trapped; the runes preventing him from escaping. There he was left, metal grinding against bone, his blood dripping out on the grass below; a sacrifice to gods long forgotten

_Aziraphale_, he sent with mind, heart and soul. _Angel…_

All his love for his angel filled that call; all the bliss he felt when they were together.

Miles away in his bookshop, settled in with wine and book, Aziraphale paused. “Crowley?”

He felt the urgent tingle again. Crowley was in trouble. Standing up, he closed his eyes. In his mind’s map of the area, he located the spot throbbing with Crowley’s pain. The angel snapped his fingers.

“No!” he breathed as he looked upon the crucified Crowley pinned to that wall like a specimen ready for dissection. 

Starting at the wrist, he pulled the knives out of one arm, causing Crowley to groan. The other arm was next. Gently holding the half-freed Crowley against the wall, Aziraphale encouraged the pain-filled demon to wrap his least damaged arm around his shoulders. Ignoring the blood staining his clothes, Aziraphale removed the daggers in Crowley’s legs, lowering him to the grass while cooing encouragement.

Love. Bliss. He felt them now. The positive emotions that boosted the signal enough he was able to locate Crowley.

Aziraphale sat with his demon sobbing silently in his lap, stroking his hair. “You’re safe now.”

“You heard, angel,” whispered Crowley. “You came.”

“Of course, my love. Let’s get you home. I’ll need to heal you.”

Two figures disappeared, off to the bookshop where the angel lovingly ministered to the demon who recovered after a few days’ worth of healing. 

“Come stay here with me, my dear?” Aziraphale asked. “I refuse to leave you alone ever again.”

Crowley’s answer was pure bliss.


End file.
